


Brave Enough

by Gia279



Series: 5+1 Things [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cupid!Boyd, Cupid!Erica, Cute, Derek has bad luck, Fluff, M/M, They don't go well, brief dates with the other mentioned characters, hopefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 14:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: The 5 times Derek Hale’s bad luck made Cupid’s job unreasonably difficult and the 1 time Derek did Cupid’s job for him.





	Brave Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd. I had the idea while at work and honestly, I wanted a break from Camp NaNo project AND Be a Witness. So this is just self indulgent fun since my other projects are Very Serious Works :| I hope you enjoy. <3

**1**

The symphony was…fine. It wouldn’t have been Derek’s first choice, but Paige was clearly enjoying it, so he didn’t complain. He kept hiding his yawns in the collar of his jacket. It wasn’t that he was bored, the music was beautiful, it was just…symphonies weren’t his idea of a fun night out. 

Paige set her hand on his wrist and shot him a quick, secretive little smile; he returned with a tiny smile of his own. 

A point at the back of his left shoulder burned. He jumped and guiltily turned his hand over.

Paige smiled and threaded her fingers through his.

 

It took another hour for the symphony to finish; Derek had managed to stay awake through sheer force of will. 

“That was so fun,” Paige bubbled as they left their seats. “Thank you for asking me.” She beamed at him. “Did you enjoy it?” She smoothed the front of her dress, which was long in the back and shorter in the front; it was flattering on her, and she clearly enjoyed wearing it, if the way she kept admiring it was any indication. It was cute.

“Oh, yes. The music was great,” Derek said. He wasn’t lying; he’d have preferred to hear the music over the radio, while he was working or something, but it was fine. The back of his shoulder burned again. “Why don’t we get a drink?” he asked almost through his teeth.

Paige grinned. “That sounds great.”

“Perfect.” They had to wait while some other patrons exited first, but that was fine. Derek wasn’t in a huge rush, and he was supposed to be getting to know Paige. He was _supposed_ to be on a date, and enjoying it, not…counting the minutes until he could go home. Which, a glance at his phone screen revealed, was in about an hour. 

“Why did you finally ask me out?” Paige asked while they waited. She smiled at him, tipping her head. “We’ve been going to the same café for months, but you’ve never said more than “good morning” to me before.”

Derek couldn’t tell her the truth, so he said, “It felt like the right time.” Which wasn’t an outright lie, anyway. 

She smiled again. “I thought so, too.” She nodded toward the lobby. “I think we’re all clear. You don’t like crowds, huh?”

“Not really.” Derek stepped aside to let her go first, which was the worst mistake he’d made all night. 

It happened too quickly to stop: Paige turned to smile at him as she stepped out of their aisle, Derek realized his foot was on the skirt of her dress, and then she lurched forward. 

He tried to catch her, but she’d already hit the wooden arm of the end seat, yelping in pain.

Several people turned around to see what the commotion was.

“Are you alright?” he asked, steadying her.

Her shoulders stiffened; as she turned, she very carefully moved out of his reach. Her lip was split where her mouth had hit the bench.

Derek winced.

Paige touched her mouth and spotted the blood. She took a steady breath. “I think I’d rather go home, actually,” she said slowly. “I need to put some ice on this.”

He nodded. “Right, of course. I’m so sorry. I could get some ice from-”

“That’s fine. I’m tired, too. I’d rather go home.”

“Sure.” 

Derek got home late after dropping Paige off. He’d driven around aimlessly to kill that last thirty minutes. He was fumbling with his keys when he heard someone behind him. He stiffened and spun around. His shoulders slumped. “Hey.”

Dorky Neighbor from across the hall grinned at him. “Hey!” He seemed to notice Derek’s expression and frowned. “You okay?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I just…had a bad date.” He winced. 

Dorky Neighbor—who totally had a name, but Derek had forgotten three seconds after he’d introduced himself, and he felt like too much time had passed to ask what it was—pouted. “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.” He had several paper grocery bags in his arms. He set two on the floor and dug through the third. He produced a single candy apple, wrapped neatly in translucent green plastic wrap. “Here.” He held it out.

“Ah…”

“It isn’t poisoned, Snow White,” he laughed. “I just thought you could use something to sweeten your night a little. Sorry you had a bad date.” 

Derek took the apple. “Thanks.” He turned it over in his hands, smiling. 

“You’re welcome! Have a good rest of your night.” He waved jauntily and kicked open his own door, shuffling his groceries over the threshold. 

Derek waited until he was inside to go into his own apartment. He sighed. “I don’t know why I expected you to use the door.”

“I don’t either.” 

Derek turned the light on. 

Cupid—Boyd, he insisted, Cupid was a generic name for all of them—was sitting on Derek’s favorite reading chair, looking both disappointed and bored. “How’d it go?”

“I stepped on her dress and she busted her lip,” he said sourly. “You can leave now.”

“This was just our first try,” Boyd said dismissively. “You can’t have one bad date and give up on love.”

“That wasn’t _love_ , that was a symphony I had to bribe myself to stay awake through.” Derek went to the kitchen. He damn well deserved this candy apple. He’d been planning to eat some of his stash of expensive ice cream, but he couldn’t resist the apple now that he had it. 

“It had the _potential_ to be love, Derek. That’s why I’m here.” 

“Is it? You haven’t exactly told me your motives here.”

Boyd sighed loudly. “It’s part of my job. I got your name and location because you’re supposed to find love soon. It’s my job to help you find it.”

“By shooting me.” Derek unwrapped the apple.

“I had to. It’s part of my job, and you wouldn’t have felt it if you weren’t a werewolf.”

“If that’s a problem, _why are you here?_ ”

Boyd’s brows drew down. “Because I’m supposed to help you find love.”

“I don’t need love!” Derek waved his hands. “I was fine.”

“Some people _are_ fine without romantic love,” Boyd said calmly. “You weren’t.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. If you were, they’d have sent a [Philotes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philotes) to help you connect. People, even werewolves, need affection, romantic or not.”

Derek glowered. “So why _her_? I didn’t even know her.”

Boyd shrugged. “I told you. I saw potential there.” 

Derek bit into his apple and sighed; he had a terrible sweet tooth, and indulging in it every now and then had serious therapeutic effects. “It went terribly, and I’ll probably never see her again. Can you leave now?”

“Nope. I can’t leave until you’ve had a successful love match.” He looked smug, leaning back in the chair like he was getting comfortable. “It doesn’t have to be forever, Derek,” he said, unexpectedly serious. “It just has to be a spark that can grow into something more.”

Derek thought Boyd was kidding himself, but he had a candy apple to eat and a coffee table-slash-bookshelf to build, and he wasn’t going to waste his time arguing with Boyd. He’d already done that enough after he’d felt the cosmic arrow strike behind his shoulder, leaving a red, tulip shaped mark in its place. 

A matching mark had shown up on Paige’s arm when Boyd had shot her moments after his arrow had hit its target on Derek. She hadn’t seemed to notice, and Derek had blurted out his awkward question without knowing why. 

He’d cornered Boyd afterward, the only man dressed in a robe so deep red it was almost black and wearing a quiver across his chest. He’d been surprised when Derek confronted him, hadn’t expected to be seen. 

“Will the mark fade?”

Boyd winced. “Yeah, about that…” He explained.

“You are _not_ going to shoot me again!” 

“I have to, it’s protocol. How else will you know who you’re supposed to talk to?”

Derek scowled at him. “I hate you.”

Boyd smiled. “That’s fine.”

 

**2**

Kate Argent wasn’t the type of person Derek would have approached on his own. In fact, after Boyd had hit them both with arrows, it was Kate who had stalked up to Derek, more predator than any werewolf could pull off, and asked him out for dinner that night. Boyd had saluted and disappeared in a whirl of red dust. 

The mark his arrow had left was a tiny flame on the outside of Derek’s wrist and on Kate’s cheek. She gave no indication of having felt it.

“Yeah,” he’d said after a moment. “Sure.” 

She’d smiled wide. “Good. Pick me up at seven. Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”

They were at an overly fancy restaurant with cloth table covers and little candles on each one. Derek felt out of place and clumsy suddenly, like he was going to break something just by being there. 

Kate seemed to love it. “This place has _the_ best view on the patio in the summer, and their chef is _amazing_.”

“That’s…good.”

She nodded firmly. “You should have the lamb salad with the fregola, it’s delightful.” 

Delightful. Derek sort of hated her already. “Thanks, but I’m not overly fond of lamb.”

“Oh.” Her mouth twisted. “That’s fine.” But she sounded like it _wasn’t_ fine, and when the server approached their table, she picked the wine for them, and ordered her meal with an air of superiority, like she found Derek’s order lacking just because he didn’t want what she’d suggested.

Derek hoped Cupids could hear thoughts, because he was calling Boyd several names, most of which he’d come up with just moments ago. 

“…and I’ve _told_ her a thousand times, but she insists that she’s in love, and really, what are you going to do with twenty-three-year-olds?” She smiled into her wine glass. “They never listen, especially when they think they’re in love.” She lifted a shoulder. “My niece deserves better than a small town veterinarian, but she won’t accept it. I just hope she realizes it before she gets pregnant.” 

Derek tried not to choke on his steak.

Kate set her glass down and reached for Derek’s wrist. “How’s your meal?” 

Derek tried not to flinch. “It’s great. And yours?” he asked to be polite, carefully shifting his hand out of reach.

Kate pulled back and her wine tipped, somehow splashing all over Derek’s shirt.

Derek flinched, rocking the table. 

Her lips curled into a smile. “Oops.” 

He tried not to swear, grabbing for a napkin. A server had already rushed over to help clean the mess. The candle tipped over and apparently just a tiny candle could catch a shirt on fire. He swore loudly, drawing even more attention, and swatted at the flames that were crawling up his shirt sleeve and arm.

“You idiot!” Kate seethed. “You’re embarrassing me! What is wrong with you?” She stood up and threw Derek’s own glass of wine at his face. “I’ll burn more than that shirt if you embarrass me further,” she hissed.

“ _You_?”

Well, and then the restaurant called the police, because Kate had lunged for him, snatching a candle from another table. 

The Beacon County Sheriff was a fairly patient man, but he didn’t look so when he pulled up to find out what had happened. “Kate,” he said wearily. He looked at Derek, wearing his burned and stained shirt, and sighed. “I told you last time, you’ve used up your warnings for fire related incidents.”

“He knocked it over, Sheriff Stilinski,” she simpered, fluttering her lashes. “Ask anyone.”

“She ran at me with a candle,” Derek muttered.

Sheriff Stilinski nodded. “I’ll get stories from the witnesses, but Ms. Argent, I think you should just come quietly and wait in the back of the cruiser.”

Kate ran.

Derek was told to go home after Sheriff Stilinski tackled her and cuffed her. 

“We’ll be in touch,” he puffed, wrestling Kate into the back of the cruiser. He slammed the door, nearly shutting it on her nose. “That’s _assault_ , Ms. Argent!”

“Fuck off!”

He sighed wearily. “You can go, Mr. Hale.”

Derek jerked in surprise. “You know me?”

“I work with your mother.” He smiled briefly. “Go on home, you look like you’ve had a rough night.”

“Yeah…could you not mention the fire to my mother?”

“No problem, kid. Just head on home.” 

Dorky Neighbor was in the hallway again when Derek got home. 

He sighed wearily and Dorky Neighbor turned.

He froze at the sight of Derek, brown eyes going wide. “Oh, wow. You…have been through the wringer tonight, huh?”

“Little bit,” he admitted, plucking at his shirt. It was going straight to the trash. The burns had destroyed most of the sleeve, and the stains had taken care of the rest. 

Dorky Neighbor bobbed his head, then dug around in his pocket. “Here.” He pressed something into Derek’s palm. “Hope your night gets better!” He went into his own apartment without giving Derek a chance to thank him or even see what he’d given him.

It was a little Chewbacca Pez dispenser. 

Derek smiled and went inside. 

Boyd was at the dining table. 

Derek glared at him. “You’re telling me there was a potential for _love_ there?”

Boyd winced. “Not really.”

“Then _why_ —” 

“I thought if you got laid, you’d be more open to the next candidate.” Boyd shrugged. 

Derek bared his teeth. “I _really_ hate you.”

“I didn’t think she was going to try to burn your clothes off!” Boyd held his hands up. “I won’t do that again. It’s a valid tactic,” he insisted stubbornly, his eyes gleaming red for a moment, “but it doesn’t always work on every assignment. That’s fine.” He clapped his hands. “It’s still early, I could-”

“No! One a day, you promised.” Derek looked at the Pez dispenser in his hand and smiled, thumbing the head back. He was pleasantly surprised to find strawberry Pez inside. 

 

**3**

The next person Boyd shot with his stupid, probably-made-with-stardust arrows was a sweet regular at Derek’s favorite bookshop. A red starburst mark appeared on the back of her hand where the arrow had struck her; she jumped a little.

Derek was hopeful.

They went to the café in the bookstore; her name was Jennifer, she was shopping for books like she did every Wednesday afternoon, and she was a literature teacher. 

“So you can imagine how much I enjoy books,” she said, and laughed at herself, ducking her head shyly. 

“I’m a big reader myself.” He nodded at the book tucked in her hands. “I’ve read that series.”

Her eyes lit. “Oh, really? How did you like it?” She lifted the one she was holding. “I’m only on the second.” 

Book talk carried the conversation on for an hour. Derek wasn’t in love with her, but she was sweet, and they seemed to get along. 

“It’s a standalone, unfortunately, but it did introduce me to a new author to enjoy.” Derek knocked his fork to the floor. “Oops, hang on.” He reached for it; something tore—his sleeve had caught on the back of his chair. He sat up abruptly, embarrassed. “I think I should go.” Before anything worse happened. “This was nice, though. We should-”

“Stay,” Jennifer said. She tilted her head and smiled, eyes gleaming. “We’re having a nice conversation. You want to stay.” 

“Um.”

She lifted her hand.

The Cupid’s mark on Derek’s arm _burned_ , way worse than the little flares he’d felt before, and he gasped, jerking his arm toward his chest and spilling his coffee in the process. It sloshed rapidly toward Jennifer, heading straight for her white sweater. 

She waved a hand.

The coffee abruptly changed direction, splashing hot across Derek’s shirt.

He stood, nearly knocking his chair over. 

Boyd appeared beside the table. “My bad.” He blew some red dust at Jennifer.

Her eyes glazed over and she sat back in her seat, staring off into the distance like she couldn’t even see them.

“See you at home.” Boyd disappeared before Derek could snarl at him.

Derek left the bookstore _dripping_.

The minor burns had healed by the time he got home, but he was just cold and wet by that point, annoyed and—to be perfectly honest—feeling down. How could he have _three_ terrible dates in a row? Who had that kind of luck? And one with a witch, to boot. 

Dorky Neighbor’s door opened when Derek was walking up the stairs. A plume of smoke and the smell of burned cheese wafted out. He coughed, waving something to clear the air. “Hey, neighbor,” he said brightly. He noticed Derek’s clothes. “Oh, man. Don’t tell me you had another bad date!”

Derek choked out a laugh that sounded far too close to a sob. He’d been better off before Boyd had come along. He’d been lonely, but he hadn’t _realized_ he’d been lonely. Now he knew why he was alone: he had shitty luck. 

Dorky Neighbor frowned. “Aw, it’s not that bad. Here, dry off a little.” He passed Derek an R2D2 dishcloth. “I’ll be right back.”

Derek used the towel to dry his shirt a bit. He examined the rip in his sleeve. It wasn’t too bad, and the shirt was dark, so the coffee would probably come out. 

Dorky Neighbor returned with a lasagna dish cradled in blue oven mitts, two forks balanced on top. “So I burned this, but the middle layers look pretty edible.” He shrugged. “Comfort food.” He sat down right in the hallway and set the dish on the floor in front of him. He grinned up at Derek. “Come on, Snow White, I promise this isn’t poisoned either.” 

Derek grinned back and sat across from him. “Was her name really Snow White?”

“You know, I think it was.” He held a fork out and used the other to dig in a bite for himself. “Mm, not bad.”

Derek tried some. “No, not bad.” He twisted a string of cheese around his fork. “Aren’t—were you expecting company?”

“Hm?”

“You were cooking.”

He blinked, confused, then looked down at the lasagna. “Oh! Oh, no, I was just experimenting with some recipes I’m not good at. Thus, burned noodles and cheese. Could have sworn I turned the oven off, but whatever.” He noticed the rip in Derek’s shirt. “Oh, jeeze, is that what made the date go bad?”

Derek looked down at it. “Not really.”

Dorky neighbor _tsk_ ed sympathetically. “You should keep an emergency sewing kit with you, just in case. What if it’d been your pants? Let me tell you from experience, that is the _worst_.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He was helpless to do anything but smile back. 

Derek went back inside two hours later, full of lasagna and more Star Wars trivia than any one man needed. He’d had more fun in his apartment hallway than he’d had at all in…weeks.

Boyd was in the kitchen this time. “Jennifer was my fault,” he said as soon as Derek closed the door. “I didn’t know she was a witch. She pretended she couldn’t see me when I marked her.”

“Was she trying to use magic to get me to stay there?”

“Yes.”

Derek shuddered.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Boyd said calmly. “Cupid magic protects against any kind of influential magic or forces.”

“Good to know,” he mumbled.

Boyd nodded. “Next time I’ll vet the person a lot better. Promise.”

Derek sighed. “Does there have to be a next time? I think we’ve proven pretty effectively that I’m no good at dating.”

Boyd stared at him hard. “Yes, there does have to be a next time. Until you’ve made a positive connection.” He kept staring until Derek started to wonder if maybe he’d missed part of what he’d said. 

He thought about Dorky Neighbor, whose name he really needed to remember. “’Kay.”

Boyd nodded again, satisfied.

 

**4**

“This guy is good,” Boyd said. “He isn’t magic, and he works for the sheriff’s department, so he’s probably not a criminal.” He shrugged. “I’ll get him first, so you can see.” He disappeared, then reappeared behind a blond nearby a checkout counter. 

They were in a grocery store, because Derek needed gum at midevening on a Thursday, apparently. 

Boyd’s arrow caught the blond on the forearm, and Derek on the wrist.

It left a tiny, red shield. 

The blond looked up and spotted Derek. He smiled widely. “Hey.” 

Derek nodded. “Hey.” He cursed Boyd in his head. The Cupid magic made him uncharacteristically bold and he hated it sometimes. He walked closer and grinned. “Are you new to Beacon Hills?”

“Ha, yeah. How could you tell? I’m Jordan, by the way.”

“Derek. Beacon Hills residents know not to get the _Beacon Herald_.” He nodded at Jordan’s armful of purchases. “It’s only filled with local gossip. Actual news is in the _Beacon Hills Daily._ ”

Jordan laughed. “I see. Small towns.”

Derek smiled. “Yeah, they’re fun like that.” 

They talked for more than an hour before deciding to see a movie together. The theater was just across the street from the store, so it was like fate, as Jordan said. Derek thought Boyd wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. But a movie was a pretty safe bet, given the last three dates. No candles, or open drinks, not much of a chance for Derek’s bad luck to sabotage it. And Jordan was wearing jeans, so there would be no stepping on skirt hems, thankfully. 

They chose an action movie, something entertaining that didn’t require prior knowledge of to appreciate. They were a bit early, so they had time to talk more. Jordan asked what Derek did, which led to him trying to explain that he basically made custom furniture for a living. 

The lights went down for the previews just after Jordan told him about his first day as a deputy, which had involved the sheriff’s son dropping a plate of slightly burned Star Wars sugar cookies in the breakroom. It had apparently taken a week to get all the frosting off of everything. 

It was good that they couldn’t talk anymore, because Jordan’s story had made him think of Dorky Neighbor, and the Chewbacca Pez dispenser he now kept on his kitchen window sill.

The previews went fine; as the movie started, Derek began to relax. Maybe they’d get through this with no disasters.

Cupid—and therefore _some_ cosmic being—may have been on Derek’s side, but fate was not. 

The audio went out. The movie kept playing, but whenever anyone spoke or anything in the background should have made noise, there was no sound.

“I’ll go let someone know,” Derek whispered.

There were several other people in the theater with them, but they remained seated, grumbling but apparently unwilling to move. 

Derek went to find help.

The projector broke when he was getting someone. The theater manager offered them a new movie or a refund. They took the refund and went to grab dinner at the casual Mexican restaurant across the street. 

“At least the food is good.”

Derek smiled. “Yeah.” He was just happy the projector hadn’t caught on fire, given his luck. And, really, he kind of liked Jordan. He was attractive and funny, laid back and kind. There had to be a catch.

Derek figured out what it was halfway through their meal. As attentive and flirty as Jordan was, he was _clearly_ interested in someone else, who he kept bringing up almost compulsively.

“And I know she was in a long term relationship before, and it ended badly, so-” He cut himself off. “I’m so sorry, I have no idea why I keep bringing her up. I’m usually not this rude.”

“That’s alright.” Derek had an idea why anyway. 

Jordan smiled apologetically, and then told Derek about the mathematician he was unable to stop talking about. 

Derek was just happy to make it home with no visible stains, rips, or burns on himself. 

There was a small grocery bag hanging on his doorknob, with a card balanced carefully on top. 

He opened the card first.

_Dear Snow White, I hope your week improves. Just in case, I have a small gift for you, for emergencies. You never know when it’ll come in handy. –Stiles, 70B PS—Her name actually_ was _Snow White._

Derek looked across the hall and smiled. _Stiles._ Dorky Neighbor had a name. He opened the bag and laughed; it was a small emergency sewing kit, a stain removal pen, and a rain poncho folded up impossibly compact. Derek went inside to write a thank-you note, signing his own name and apartment number, just in case Stiles didn’t know it. He taped it carefully under the gold “70B” on Stiles’s door and went back to his own apartment.

“How’d it go?” Boyd asked. “You don’t _look_ furious.”

“It went really well.”

“Really?” Boyd sounded insultingly shocked.

“Yeah. But your magic worked a little too well. He’s in love someone already, and kept talking about her.”

Boyd frowned. “Oh. _Oh._ That’s not supposed to happen,” he mumbled. “Well, at least no one got hurt! Next time will be better.”

“This is the _last_ one,” Derek said. “I’m not following through if you go after this next one. This is getting ridiculous. You’re just going to have to accept that maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

Boyd shook his head. “Some people are. You aren’t. You’re so close to your true love. I wish you could see it, too.” He sighed. “I’ll be back to find another potential for you.” A whirl of red clouds and he was gone.

Derek fell face first on the couch and wished Cupid would leave him alone.

 

**5**

Braeden was nice, pretty, and had a great sense of humor. She brushed off Derek’s bad luck like everyone spilled soft drinks on the counter and knocked over stacks of towels in the store just from walking by. When Derek accidentally let loose a long train of carts in the parking lot, she laughed and helped him help the cart wranglers chase them down.

She invited him ice skating, and the weird, rounded mark on his shoulder glowed hot, until he was unable to say anything but yes.

Ice skating wasn’t something Derek had ever tried. He had no interest in trying it as a kid and he assumed he would excel at it, like most werewolves at most athletic feats. He was…unexpectedly terrible at it.

“That’s okay,” Braeden said cheerfully. She was holding onto Derek’s hands, which was not as helpful as she thought; he had to concentrate on not falling _and_ on not crushing her hands. “No one’s good at ice skating their first time.”

“Yeah.” He was just trying not to fall at this point.

Several children were skating laps around him. _Laps._ They knew it, too, and they thought it was _hilarious_. 

Braeden was smiling, too, but at least she wasn’t laughing at him. “Okay, I’m going to let go. I think you’re getting it! Remember to keep your feet part if you want to slow down.” She pulled her hands away carefully.

Derek felt himself wobble and clenched his fists; he was _not_ going to fall in front of all these kids and their parents. 

Braeden clapped. “You’re doing great! Let’s do another lap and we’ll go get some hot chocolate.”

“Are you bribing me?” he called, nearly swearing when his left foot did _not_ go the direction it was meant to. A glance at the tiny ears swarming around the rink was the only thing stopping him from swearing. 

“Is it working?”

“A little,” he admitted.

She laughed and skated ahead effortlessly. 

Derek shuffled after her. He would’ve held onto the wall, but that’s where all the really young kids were and he didn’t want to fall on any of them. 

Braeden swept up on Derek’s left, snickering when he flinched and nearly fell. “Sorry, thought you heard me.”

“Ha, yeah, I—oh.”

A kid cut across the rink right in front of them.

Derek reared back automatically, trying not to run her over; three kids behind him shrieked, his feet flew out from under him, and then he was flat on the ice. 

Braeden swore when she landed hard beside him. “Ouch.”

Behind them, the group of children were scattered on the ice while their parents rushed over. 

Braeden winced. “Whoops.”

Derek dropped his head back on the ice. 

“Could’ve been worse,” she said cheerfully. “You could have-”

Another kid flew by, hit Derek’s outstretched hand, sliced open his finger, and went sprawling. 

“Oh my god!” Braeden scrambled over.

Derek had to suppress his healing while the first aid employee helped him. 

There was blood on the ice. They had to close the entire rink while they cleaned it.

“Can you move it?” Braeden asked. “I can drive you to the hospital.”

“No, it’s fine.” Derek was still annoyed he’d had to fill out an incident report _while_ that kid’s mother had been shouting, demanding to know why no one was treating her kid, who had almost cut off Derek’s finger, like a victim.

Braeden was nice, but Derek didn’t think they had much in common. After she was sure Derek didn’t need to go to the hospital, she started telling him about her hunting trips.

Derek and his pack had hunted and eaten deer before, but sport hunting had always made him uncomfortable.

After he got back to his apartment, he stormed up the stairs. He was done. Boyd was either a terrible Cupid, or Derek’s bad luck exceeded even magical fixes. Whichever it was, he was tired of it. He didn’t care if his true love was one more date away, he’d rather die alone making custom twin cribs than go on another Cupid-sanctioned date.

He stomped all the way to the third floor and hoped Boyd knew he was about to be fired rather spectacularly. He froze in the hallway.

The carpet was wet, and Stiles was kicking at his own door. When he noticed Derek watching, he stopped. “Sorry, was I too loud? I’m locked out and it’s flooding.” His hair was standing on end, damp and wild. “My phone is in there, too, so I haven’t…been able to…” He trailed off as Derek stepped around him. 

Derek twisted the doorknob sharply and pushed. Water gushed over their feet.

“…call anyone, oh my god, how did you do that?” Stiles threw his arms around Derek’s neck, pecked his cheek, and let go just as quickly. He looked into his apartment and groaned. “Oh, god, this is going to be awful.”

And Derek, temporarily insane, said, “I’ll help you.”

 

**+1**

Stiles was adorable and, Derek was delighted to find out, he was both clumsier and more accident-prone than Derek himself. 

“How do you flood the bathtub _this_ bad? There’s an emergency drain.” Derek had brought over every towel and mop he owned to help control the mess.

Stiles grinned sheepishly. “Well, I sort of bought a cover for that.”

“I’m leaving.”

Stiles laughed and threw a wet rag at Derek’s head, because he apparently _already_ understood Derek’s sense of humor. “I was only running to get the mail. The water wasn’t meant to be on that long—I could have _sworn_ I turned it off before I ran out.” He picked up a sopping rug and sighed sadly. “I guess not, though.” He smiled at Derek. “Thanks for helping me out. I’m sure you had better plans than this for your Friday night.”

“Not really.” Derek told him what’d happened with Braeden, even though it meant he’d have to keep his finger from healing even longer. 

Stiles immediately rushed over to investigate, humming sympathetically over the bandage. “That really sucks.” He squeezed Derek’s hand and grinned. “How about you stay for dinner? I’ll cook something awesome and…” He looked around his apartment. The water had mostly drained, but there were still puddles in places. “Or I can cook something awesome and take it to you, if you’d prefer. As a thank you.”

Derek snorted, because his throat felt a little too dry for words. “Are you kidding? I should be thanking you for cheering me up all week.”

Stiles’s cheeks flushed. “Well, you know. I couldn’t just leave you looking so miserable.” He let go of Derek’s hand and bent, scooping up some towels. “I’m going to wring these out and throw them in the dryer,” he mumbled, rushing by.

“Stiles.”

He hesitated in the hallway. “Yeah?”

“I’d love to stay for dinner. If you’ll have me.”

His smile made Derek’s heart stutter. “Yeah, of course.” 

 

Later, when Derek kissed Stiles over his plate of pineapple chicken Stiles had made for them, a spot on his chest grew warm, like a more pleasant version of the burn from Boyd’s marks. He pulled back, startled, and looked down.

Stiles licked his lips, looking nervous. “Sorry, were you-”

“No, it’s not…anything. I was just thinking…I think I left my TV on.” Their faces were still incredibly close, so they were whispering, noses brushing.

Stiles smiled shyly. “Why don’t you go turn it off and maybe-” he took a soft, hitching breath- “maybe come back with a change of clothes?” He swallowed, gaze dipping away.

Derek kissed him again. “Yes—yeah. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

They kissed again, long and lingering, and Derek ran over to his apartment.

Boyd looked badly startled when he burst in. Red clouds swirled to his right, like someone had been there moments ago. “Derek? Did it-”

Derek ignored him and yanked the collar of his shirt down. He stared at the blush pink circle right above his heart. “When?”

Boyd stared at him.

“ _When?_ ”

Boyd sighed. “ _Weeks_ ago. Cupid magic is much subtler than you think, so when we realized you were ignoring it…they sent me.” He showed Derek his quiver of arrows. “Lust,” he said with an eye roll. The arrows were silver tipped with red. “You think Cupids go around shooting people, missing their hearts, all the time? Pah.”

“What?”

The next sigh and eye roll was accompanied with Boyd getting to his feet. “Cupids aim at your heart,” he said slowly, “when they’re shooting for love.”

Derek remembered every other mark—the only one that had been close to his heart had been behind his shoulder, with Paige. “So why-”

“You were ignoring the first one, we thought you could use a little nudge.” Boyd pressed his lips together, then sighed. “And, just so you know, your luck isn’t really that bad.” He grinned, eyes gleaming red.

“ _You_ -”

“Actually, me,” a woman said, swirling into existence right next to him. She was wearing robes the same color red as Boyd’s, carrying a bronze bow similar to his. She grinned and fluttered her fingers. “Haven’t you wondered why that cutie across the hall was always right on time to save you?”

“Did you flood his apartment? And burn his food?”

She shrugged. “Got you over there, didn’t it? Anyway, Boyd, our job is done.” She took Boyd’s hand and looked at Derek. “He’s waiting for you.” Red clouds filled the room.

“Wait. Did you guys make my dates go badly, too?”

The woman snorted. “Uh, yeah. What, you thought the candle just _leaped_ off the table?”

“Erica,” Boyd warned.

“Have fun!” she trilled, and they were gone.

Derek looked down at the mark on his chest, which had grown warm again. He whipped the door open and found Stiles about to knock.

He stepped back hastily. “Sorry, I was just—I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to-”

Derek grabbed him around the waist and yanked him closer, kissing him. “I can get clothes later,” he mumbled against his mouth. 

Stiles laughed breathlessly. “Okay, good—good idea.” 

Derek closed his door behind his back and walked Stiles backwards toward his apartment. “I’m sorry your bath flooded,” he whispered.

Stiles laughed again, leaning back enough to blink at him. “Oh, are you serious? That’s the best disaster I’ve had yet.” He kissed Derek and grinned. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Derek shook his head. “Sorry.”

Stiles pushed his door open. “Hey, maybe it’s better this way.” He grinned. “I didn’t burn our food tonight, so that’s already an improvement.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder guiltily, but Stiles was kissing his jaw and gently tugging him toward the bedroom, and that was more than enough to distract him from thoughts of Cupid.

**Author's Note:**

> Boyd and Erica were in cahoots with Laura all along, it's a conspiracy.


End file.
